Mike.

This poem is the nitty gritty of my experiences in the care system, it is very raw.

Is life ever what i expected it to be?
I think not,
Five years ago, i wanted to be an adult,
I wanted them to leave me alone.
Couldnt they see?

I had no family, i was chucked into care!
My mum was a prostitute.
A violent drunk too.
She thought she had fire-flare
She did not.
But i still loved her, to me she was rare.

The first foster parents.
What i expected?
Oh, for sure.
He was mean.
I felt i was cursed.
If you know what I mean?

He was dirty, Dirty, DIRTY!
But provoked? Im not sure...
I didnt prevoke
My sister, she was flirty.

But can you call that provocation?
She thought she was doomed to damnation
We was in a new location.
I was her only relation.
This was all the result of causation.

She was messed in the head.
Not like Brain Dead.
More like, f**k you! Drop dead!
Although it remained left unsaid.
I knew it made her feel loved,
on top of that bunk bed.
Or maybe i misread.

We stayed with Mike.
Yes his name was Mike.
For two years.
Until my sister,
she decided to fight.
She told the school
about her fears.
Her tears.
She thought they would help.
Now she has a strict policy
Only Self-help.

We was moving again,
I had tears smeared,
down my face
I dont know whether
they were happy or sad.
I felt like I was raving mad.
We was out.
But were they gonna be
different,
I was in doubt.

We had a case
Interviews, were the worst.
The cameras where glaring.
The interviewer was staring.
Disdainful, disbelieving,
they were wrong.
They were not perceiving
They were theiving
Theiving our right
To be believed.

They said we were lying,
We shook
We were crying,
But we didnt go back,
That was a relief
But f**k,
Where is the belief?

Mike still fosters today.
I found out yesterday.
What a joke!
I promise you, he thinks,
he is the bloke.

© 2011 Stephanie Peake

Author's Note

I probably have'nt got the punctuation or grammer completely correct, but i wanted to make a point, and dont think i could of done this without some misuse of grammer.

My Review

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Reviews

Amit Parmessur

You have talent. Best part for me:

I had no family, i was chucked into care!
My mum was a prostitute.
A violent drunk too.
She thought she had fire-flare
She did not.
But i still loved her, to me she was rare.